


makeshift gauge

by wordsinbetween



Series: the way home [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mechanics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Coming Out, Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, Fourth of July, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, References to Illness, Summer Vacation, Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinbetween/pseuds/wordsinbetween
Summary: “Why are you working today again?”Eddie sighs and mutters something that sounds like 'why did you turn the radio up so loud when you clearly want to have this conversation again.' Richie ignores him and starts to hum along to Journey.“Next weekend is the Fourth of July, and I’m already taking Friday off so we can help your sister get her backyard ready.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: the way home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735579
Comments: 52
Kudos: 481





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back by popular demand, it's Ripley! Also Richie and Eddie. But most importantly, Ripley the dog. 
> 
> Once again, "reference to illness" tag applies to a minor character, but there is a little more medical stuff in this chapter than the first fic.

June passes by in a blur, hardly giving Richie a chance to catch his breath.

He makes himself write for a couple hours every morning, poking at a new script idea and then devoting the rest of the day trying to refine his set for the upcoming mini-tour around New England. Sometimes he drives over to his sister’s place for lunch, but most days he drops by Kaspbrak Restorations to ensure Eddie remembers to take a break and eat.

Sometimes he drops by Eddie’s house to steal Ripley so they can walk through the nature reserve on the river. He likes to sit on the park bench that overlooks the wetlands with his little notebook and workshop new jokes. Ripley’s not exactly the best judge when it comes to comedy, but when she looks back at him, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as she grins, he figures that’s a good enough stamp of approval. 

She likes to sit on his feet, leaning heavily against his leg as she watches the birds burst out of the water and into flight. Her soft ears perk up when the Canada geese honk overhead before gliding down to the water. It’s easy to lose track of time out here. He knows it’s time to go when Ripley sticks her nose between his legs and bumps his notebook with her head, snorting playfully until he folds it up and kisses her.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, unhooking the leash from her collar.

They walk down the dirt path until they’re across the boardwalks and approaching the parking lot. He flings the tennis ball into the tall grass for her to hunt down. She comes back with muddy feet and a muddy face but she’s so happy he can’t be mad. Okay, so Eddie might be a little mad later, but that’s something Richie can fix easily enough. 

He throws the ball for another twenty minutes, until the mosquitoes start to harass them both and he finally gives in, calling Ripley over to his sister’s Civic. He wipes her feet with a towel and then lays it down across the backseat for her. By the time he’s backed out of the parking spot and turned onto the road back to town, she’s breathing deeply, knocked out already.

He beats Eddie home and lets the dog inside.

“Rip, sit down and clean your feet!” Richie tries to coax her. “C’mon, I know you know what that means. Wash your feet.”

He doesn’t have the ‘you’re not getting dinner until you clean them’ glare down pat quite like Eddie, but she eventually plops down in the hallway and starts to lick at the fur between her toes. Eddie walks in the door as Richie’s turning on the oven, the scowl on his face softening when Richie reaches out to pull him into his arms. He kisses him until Eddie pushes him away with a laugh, disappearing further into the house so he can shower.

They eat dinner and lie together on the couch, all tangled up as they watch a movie or reruns until the sun goes down and they inevitably get distracted by each other. They kiss and let their hands wander until Eddie’s sitting in his lap and grinding his hips down, panting desperately against Richie’s neck. Eddie pulls him off the couch and drags him toward the bedroom. They spend the cool summer nights learning everything about each other, inside and out.

The last time summer flew by this quickly, he was eleven years old. He rode his bike all over town without ever tiring, skinning his knees on hot pavement and pulling his friends into the cool water of the river as their laughs blended together and echoed off the rocks. He’s 35 years old now, and he’s back in Maine for reasons he doesn’t like to think about for too long, but Eddie makes it worth it.

~

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon, clear skies stretching as far as the eye can see. Richie can smell somebody grilling nearby, the smell of fresh burgers making his stomach grumble. Ripley’s stretched out on her dog bed that’s tucked into one of the corners of the lobby of Eddie’s shop. She flips over with a groan, stretching her legs against the wall. He can hear the scratch of her claws against the paint and he should probably _tsk_ at her, but Richie ignores her and rereads the same paragraph in his book for the third time.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, finally tossing the book onto the chair next to him. “I give up. Come on, Rip, let’s go find your dad.”

He walks towards the door leading to the garage, patting his thigh until Ripley finally follows him. Eddie’s nowhere to be seen, but Richie can hear his soft muttered insults and the sounds of him rummaging through a pile of tools. He’s probably underneath the Blazer again. It’s been here since Tuesday. Richie knows this because Eddie’s ranted about it every day since, well, Tuesday.

“Shit!” A wrench falls to the ground very loudly. “Motherfucker! Absolute piece of _shit_.”

Richie leans against the Blazer’s front door and nudges at Eddie’s leg where it’s poking out from under the truck.

“You okay down there?”

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbles before shimmying his way backwards until Richie can see his face. “I cut myself. Can you grab me a paper towel?”

“Oh shit, yeah,” Richie says as he walks over to the dispenser across the room. “You alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m just pissed off. And bleeding.”

“Do you need the First-Aid kit or something?” Richie hands him the paper towels and kneels down, reaching out to gently squeeze Eddie’s knee.

Eddie cleans the fresh cut on his forearm delicately. It’s not very deep, but it’s a couple inches long.

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie sighs.

“Are you sure?”

“You’re annoying,” Eddie says, finally cracking a smile. He drops the crumpled up paper towels next to his pile of tools and slides back under the Blazer.

“Are you almost done?” Richie’s still kneeling down, but all that’s within reach now is one of Eddie’s boots. He wraps a hand around his ankle and shakes it until Eddie kicks at him halfheartedly, laughing from his position under the truck.

“Not really,” Eddie shouts back, voice a little muffled. He’s probably biting at his bottom lip in concentration. Richie loves it when he does that. It’s hot.

“It’s Sunday! It’s the weekend, baby! We could be at the la– oops.” He glances outside the open garage bay door, where Ripley’s splayed out on the warm concrete. Her eyes are closed, but he doesn’t trust her.

“We could be at the l-a-k-e!” He whispers loudly.

“I told you it was going to be boring,” Eddie says, clearly trying to stop smiling and failing miserably. “You can pick me up later if you want to leave for awhile.” 

“I only want to pick you up so we can make out inside this car,” Richie teases, sliding his hand up Eddie’s pant leg until he can feel skin.

“Stop it!” Eddie yelps, pulling his leg up until it’s hidden under the Blazer, too. _Damnit._ “This is a client’s car, Richie!”

“We made out on _my_ car…”

“Shut up,” Eddie huffs out, though it’s clear he’s trying not to laugh and on the edge of failing miserably. “You know that was different.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Richie straightens back up and wanders towards the old radio sitting in the corner. Okay, let’s be honest here. It’s a fucking boombox that’s been wired to play on the bigger speakers that are placed around the garage. He fiddles with the dial until it lands on the oldies station.

“I don’t know how you can work in complete silence, dude,” Richie says, turning up the volume and joining Ripley outside.

“I just forget sometimes.”

“Like you forgot today’s Sunday?”

“I didn’t _forget_ , Richard.”

“Ooh, you full-named me! That’s sexy. Do it again.”

Eddie answers by throwing a pair of pliers at him. They land with a little _plop_ two feet away from his feet.

“Nice throw, Pedro.”

“Shut up. I know it’s Sunday, okay? Just let me get this shock out and then we can go.”

Richie lies down on the driveway next to Ripley and buries a hand in her thick fur. She tosses her head back to look at him. The ground is a little uncomfortable, but the heat feels good, and there’s a slight breeze today. They should be at the fucking lake right now.

“Why are you working today again?”

Eddie sighs and mutters something that sounds like _why did you turn the radio up so loud when you clearly want to have this conversation again._ Richie ignores him and starts to hum along to Journey.

“Next weekend is the Fourth of July, and I’m already taking Friday off so we can help your sister get her backyard ready.”

Richie grins up at the blue sky. Eddie’s only met Sarah once, technically, and he’s never really brought a guy to a family “holiday” before, but– he’s happy Eddie’s spending the weekend with them. He’s nervous as fuck, but he’s trying to let himself be excited, too.

“Then the week after that,” Eddie continues, emphasizing his words like this is the first time Richie’s heard about this. “I’m going with you to Boston for the show. If you want me to be able to come with you, I’ve gotta get this project done this week.”

“Don can’t wrap it up for you?”

“Don can barely change a gasket without tearing it,” Eddie sighs. “He can put things back together, but I’m not gonna leave the job half-finished. Evan’s an understanding guy but I like to keep my deadlines.”

Richie makes a little sound of acknowledgement, grinning to himself. Boston. Three whole days alone with Eddie. Okay, so maybe he’s got two shows to worry about, but hey. Easy peasy.

“Just give me like half an hour and then I’ll be done,” Eddie says, grunting as he puts his weight into whatever it is that he’s doing under there. “I need to concentrate on this.”

“Are you implying that I’m distracting, Eduardo?”

Eddie ignores him. Jerk.

Journey fades out and Richie sits up so fast his back pops when the next starts.

“Oh, now this is a classic,” he shouts. Eddie ignores him. Ripley doesn’t even open her eyes.

“I've been lonely,” he sings along, shaking Ripley’s shoulder until she looks up at him blearily. “I've been waiting for you!”

Her tongue flops out of her mouth as she pants.

“I'm pretending and that's all I can do!”

She snorts and starts to wag her tail as his admittedly very bad singing starts to wake her up. He fumbles over the next verse and laughs when she sits up suddenly to lick at his face.

“What are you doing to my poor dog?” Eddie says from under the truck.

“Serenading her. Are you jealous?”

“Not even slightly,” Eddie grumbles, though Richie’s pretty sure that’s not true.

“What about LOVE!” Richie holds onto Ripley’s face with both hands. “Don’t you want someone to care about you?!”

Ripley barks and lunges forward, her whole body wiggling as her tail wags rapidly. She licks his face until she’s knocked his glasses off his nose.

“What about love! Don’t let it slip away!”

She pushes him onto his back, front paws heavy on his ribs, and he gives up on singing after that, laughing loudly as he pushes weakly at her broad shoulders. He can hear Eddie laughing behind them. Richie finally frees himself and tosses the tennis ball down the deserted back alley until Eddie’s done and the shop’s closed back up.

Eddie doesn’t say anything when he joins them, just comes up behind Richie and wraps his arms around his waist, his cheek warm on Richie’s shoulder blade. He throws the ball a few more times until Ripley loses interest and nudges at Eddie’s thigh until he greets her.

There’s something freeing about letting Eddie hold him like that, out where anyone can see them. He brushes his thumb over the back of the hand Eddie’s still got around his waist. Eddie pulls him towards the car after a few minutes; following him is the easiest thing in the world. 

~

A storm rolls in Monday afternoon, lasting through the night. The lightning lights up Richie’s bedroom, the rain angry and loud against the glass. The thunder rattles his chest and makes the old house creak. He sleeps in tense bursts, the comforter pulled up to his chin; the bed feels cold without Eddie there.

He tosses and turns until he finally falls back asleep, the thunder finally a distant rumble even as the rain persists. He dreams about being lost in a flood, chased by something large and looming; something as dark and cruel as the storm. His shoes are soaking wet, shoelaces trailing behind him as he walks down the center divide of a street he doesn’t recognize.

The gutters are flooded. Water is pooling at the curbs, edging closer to the center with every passing second. Somebody’s calling his name up ahead.

Behind him, somebody whispers his name; growls it deep in their unnatural throat.

He’s on the shore of the lake now. He sees himself turn in a circle, tripping over his own wet shoes as he tries to get his bearings. The lake is unsettled, waves crashing against the dock as the storm swells overhead. Somebody says his name again. 

When he wakes up, it’s still raining and all the blankets have been shoved off the end of the bed. It’s impossible to know what time it is; the light bleeding in through thin curtains is grey and flat. He drags a pillow over his eyes and tries to fall asleep again, but he can’t shake the dream, even though he hardly remembers it now.

He remembers being wet. He remembers being alone.

Richie drags himself out of bed and stands under the shower until the water turns lukewarm. Even after he’s toweled off, he still feels chilled. It’s a warm summer rain, but still he zips his hoodie up to his neck as he ventures down the block to the little cafe on the corner.

He drains a large coffee and pokes at a chocolate croissant that smells delicious, but his stomach turns every time he takes a bite. The coffee doesn’t wake him, just sets him on edge, knee bouncing a restless rhythm under the table. He reads his unread messages and only answers the one from his mother, confirming that he can come over for lunch with Dad tomorrow.

Eddie calls; he lets it go to voicemail. It makes him feel like shit.

He gets a refill and goes home, the croissant wrapped up in a napkin in his pocket. He’s not going to eat it, but at least this way he can pretend that he might. He puts his phone on Do Not Disturb mode and sits down to write until the rain stops and the fog starts to lift from his mind. 

He doesn’t read any of the unread messages waiting for him except for Eddie’s most recent.

[5:32] Hey. You want me to bring you some dinner?

Richie opens the fridge and scowls at the carton of eggs and tubs of leftovers. He pours himself a glass of juice and shuts the fridge again.

[5:48] _hey. sure if you don’t mind_

[5:51] Bad day?

[5:52] _yeah. sorry._

[6:01] You don’t have to apologize. I’ll be there soon, okay?

[6:04] _front door’s open._

Eddie walks into the kitchen just after half past, a brown paper bag in his arms from the Chinese place down the street from his shop. Richie moves to stand up from his chair but Eddie stops him with a hand on top of his head, running his fingers through his tangled hair. Richie turns in his seat and presses his cheek to Eddie’s stomach, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh as he wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist.

“Did you write anything today?” Eddie asks him softly. His other hand is on his cheek now, thumb brushing over his rough stubble.

“Yeah,” Richie shrugs. He sounds defeated even to his own ears. “But it’s all shit. It’s too sad.”

“Hey, that’s fine.” Eddie leans down to kiss the top of his head and Richie has to squeeze his eyes shut against the sudden threat of tears. He breathes through it.

“You still got something down, that’s what’s important,” Eddie says, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah.”

“Did you eat anything today?”

Richie’s face flushes hot, embarrassed by his own inabilities on days like this. He doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head against Eddie’s stomach.

“I got you that chicken you liked last time. And some soup. Does that sound good?”

Richie’s stomach starts to growl, catching up to the situation as the smells coming from the take-out bag finally grab his attention. He feels Eddie laugh more than he hears it.

“Will you stay for awhile?” Richie asks. His voice sounds as small as he feels.

“If you want me to.”

Richie gets up to grab them plates and some silverware while Eddie starts to pull take-out boxes from the bag, gently setting Richie’s notebook aside on the other end of the table.

Richie doesn’t really feel like talking, and Eddie doesn’t try to force the matter. Richie sips at his soup until the nausea goes away and then he digs into the chicken dish until he’s practically got a stomach ache. Eddie doesn’t say a thing, just occupies himself with his on-going game of Words with Friends with Mike and arguing with people on Twitter, probably.

Once they’re both done, Richie takes his hand and pulls him over to the couch. Eddie sits down first and lets Richie curl up around him, head pillowed on his chest. Richie picks at the dog hair clinging to Eddie’s shirt until his eyes start to itch, exhaustion starting to pull heavily at his limbs.

Richie tilts his head back against the arm of the couch and pulls Eddie into a kiss, clinging to him without hardly noticing. He kisses him until he realizes Eddie is shushing him, trying to soothe him every time they pull apart. He kisses him until he realizes his eyes are clenched shut and he’s crying, until a sob catches in his throat and he moves to hide his face against Eddie’s neck.

Eddie holds him until he’s worn himself out, until he’s practically falling asleep in his arms. He leads Richie to bed and eases him out of his clothes, tucking him in under the covers. Richie’s asleep before he’s gone.

He doesn’t remember his dreams.

~

Wednesday morning is overcast and sticky, the moisture clinging to his skin even after he’s showered and dressed. He still feels sluggish, but this time the coffee helps a little. He brings his laptop with him and pokes at the second act of his script until it’s half past eleven.

He drives over to his parents’ place and misses two different turns. He slams his hand down on the dashboard but the only thing it accomplishes is making his palm feel bruised. He rolls into the driveway just as his mom is walking out of the house, purse slung over her shoulder and car keys in her hand.

“Hey, honey,” Maggie says, gently squeezing his arm as he walks up to the door.

“Are you leaving? I thought we were having lunch today?” Richie asks, hesitating next to her.

“Went’s inside. I just thought I’d run some errands so you can have some time with him.”

Richie rubs at his face, pulling at his cheeks like it’ll help wake him up.

“Yeah, I just… if you need something from the store, I can go–”

“You’ll be fine, Richie,” she says, reaching up to pull his hand away from his face. “He’s doing really well. The new treatment’s making a big difference, he just gets tired during the day. Just sit with him, okay?”

“Okay.” Richie swallows hard.

“I’ll be back soon,” Maggie says, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “Call if you need anything.”

He waits to go into the house until she’s backed out of the driveway, squinting against the bright grey skies.

“Okay.”

His dad’s watching the local news, lounging comfortably in his favorite armchair. Richie’s pretty sure they’ve owned that chair since 1995, when they bought the house. It looks its age, but Went refuses to let it go.

“Hey, pops,” Richie says, collapsing onto the couch. Went’s already got a tray balanced on his lap, a bowl of soup in the center. Richie rubs his hands against the side of his pants, trying to ignore the urge to awkwardly pull out his phone for a distraction.

“Hi Rich,” Went says, giving him a little smile after he swallows another spoonful. He looks like he’s a second away from wanting to tease Richie’s about his discomfort.

“Soup’s in the kitchen, if you want some.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’ll uh– I’ll get some in a minute.”

Richie fidgets with a string coming off the hem of his shirt and watches one of the local reporters talk in depth about an upcoming construction project. It’s very dry. He feels his phone go off in his pocket and ignores it.

“So,” Went says, grinning now. _Oh no._ “Are we going to meet him soon?”

“Who?” Richie says, like a fucking moron.

Went laughs and Richie starts to blush like he’s twenty years old again. He wants to melt into the couch cushions.

“Um,” he stutters out. Maybe he should go get that soup now. “Eddie’s coming to the cook-out Saturday. Please don’t interrogate him.”

Went waves at him with his spoon. “Go on, get some lunch. I’m not going to interrogate your boyfriend.”

Richie practically leaps off the couch, which just makes his dad laugh harder.

“Not in front of you, at least!” Went yells after him.

He gets a bowl out of the cabinet and serves himself before turning off the heat, placing the lid on the pot. He takes his phone out and stares at the dark screen. _Are you my boyfriend??_

Richie’s not an idiot, he knows they’re… dating. He thinks. He’s pretty sure that’s what they’re doing. 

He’s too old to be worried about this kind of shit.

He puts his phone away and opens the fridge for a drink, but then he hears something clatter onto the wood floor in the other room.

“Dad? You all right?” He starts to walk back out of the kitchen before Went answers with a rough shout.

“It’s nothing! Just dropped the spoon is all.”

“Oh. I’ll grab you a new one, just a sec.”

He backtracks to grab his dad a clean spoon, picking up his bowl on the way, careful not to spill any over the edge. He can feel the steam rising, an unavoidable discomfort on the bottom of his chin.

“Here ya go, I grabbed–”

Richie’s about to make the turn into the room when he hears a crash, the sound of something heavy meeting an uncooperative surface. It’s followed by a cry, a shout of pain and frustration. Helplessness. Richie goes still, his mind suddenly devoid of any thought, incapable of processing any sound. He’s not really sure if he’s breathing.

The soup burns his hand.

He stands there in the doorway until his father’s voice breaks through the haze, snapping him out of it. Richie hisses, finally acknowledging the soup pouring over the side of the bowl onto the back of his hand.

“Richie!” His father says. He’s crying.

Richie thinks he might be crying, too.

He drops the bowl. It crashes to the floor, probably ruining the rug and the paint on the wall and scratching the floor. He stumbles forward until he’s kneeling on the floor next to Went, hesitating for a split second before touching his shoulder.

“Are you–”

“My arm, it’s–” Went cuts himself off, squeezing his eyes shut. “Help me sit up. I can sit up. I just need your help, Richie. Richie!”

“Fuck, I’m s-sorry.” He wipes at his face, angry at himself. He helps his dad up, hissing between his teeth when his burnt hand flexes.

Every inch of Richie is trembling when he finally gets his phone out of his pocket to call for an ambulance. Went is clutching his left elbow, holding his arm close to his chest. Protectively. His legs are stretched out in front of him. Richie’s too afraid to help him try and get up off the floor.

He’s too afraid.

The operator picks up quickly and Richie manages to rattle off the address, stumbling over _thank you_ and _please hurry I don’t knowwhattodo_. 

The sirens hurt his ears. He stumbles to his feet to open the door for the EMT’s; they brush past him quickly, bags in their hands, kneeling right where he was just sitting. They ask Went questions and he answers so calmly that Richie feels useless, just standing by the door and cradling his hand. He unlocks his phone again.

“Mom, I–” he says as soon as she picks up, but it turns into a sob that catches roughly in his throat.

He hears her say his name, hears her ask _what’s wrong? Richie I need you to–_ and then he says _it was an accident, Mom, I didn’t mean to–_

He doesn’t remember her hanging up, but ten minutes later she’s standing next to him, holding his face in her hands and telling him to breathe. Richie finally notices the EMT’s have stood his father up on his own two feet, a temporary brace wrapped around his left forearm. She pulls him aside and out of the doorway so they can lead Went outside to the ambulance.

He doesn’t remember the ride to the hospital, not really. He remembers asking his mom to _pull over, please,_ so he could open the passenger door of her car and throw up on the side of the road.

“I’m sorry,” he had said, again and again.

Once they’ve finally arrived at the hospital, his mom finds an empty row of chairs in the waiting room and sits him down while she makes her way over to the front desk. He feels like a little boy again, unsure of what he’s supposed to do without someone leading the way. He curls in on himself. The uncomfortable plastic digs into his thighs. He pokes at the angry pink skin at the junction between his thumb and his index finger. It stings.

He digs his phone out of his pocket and texts Eddie.

[12:51] _is there any chance you could leave work early_ _  
_ [12:56] _I think I need you right now_

He sits there, alone in the fluorescent room, his foot bouncing endlessly. He traces the pattern on the tile floor until his phone buzzes in his hand.

[1:07] Richie?? Are you okay??  
[1:08] Where are you

[1:09] _memorial hospital_ _  
_ [1:09] _I think he’s ok but it’s my dad_

He’s so fucking tired. He wipes angrily at his face. _Fuck_. He hates crying.

[1:11] _I really fucked up eddie. it’s my fault_

[1:14] I’ll be there soon, just breathe for me okay?

The sliding glass doors open and close so many times in the next twenty minutes he tunes them out. Maggie disappeared down the hall a few minutes ago, following a nurse somewhere, and Richie vaguely pauses to think _was I supposed to follow her?_ But he’s stuck to this chair, a shiver running down his back as the sweat starts to cool, his shirt damp and uncomfortable.

He looks up when a family walks inside, a little girl clinging to her mother’s neck, red-faced and upset. Then he notices Eddie, bursting through the door behind them and scanning the room. He stands up on shaky legs.

“Eddie–” His voice breaks. He breaks.

Eddie turns at the sound of his voice, standing by his side in a split second. His hands are warm on Richie’s arms; there’s a little frown on his face as he looks over Richie’s face, brow furrowing deeper when he notices the tender skin on Richie’s hand.

Richie clings to him. He’s probably leaving bruises on Eddie’s shoulder where he’s holding on, but he can’t seem to get his fingers to listen to him. His breathing’s picking back up, rough in his dry throat. He’s swallowing too much air.

“I’m here,” Eddie says. It unnerves him that he’s never heard Eddie sound so shaken. _I did this–_

“He _fell_ , Eddie, and I just--”

“You did everything right, Rich. You did everything right. Okay?”

“I froze! I just stood there until he yelled my name!”

“You called the ambulance.” Eddie’s holding his face now, thumbs brushing away the tears burning his skin. “He’s fine because you did everything right.”

“I was only out of the room for a few minutes,” he says before hiding his face against Eddie’s neck. He smells like oil and sweat and something metallic. It’s familiar. He breathes him in and feels his hold start to loosen.

“It was an accident,” he says; an exhalation. A confession.

He feels Eddie’s hand run through his hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. 

“I know it was.”

They sit in the waiting room until Maggie reappears. Richie’s holding Eddie’s hand like a vice grip, slumped down in the chair. His stomach is growling painfully. The adrenaline has left his system and he just feels raw and split open now, exhaustion delaying his reaction times. He doesn’t even notice his mother until she’s standing right in front of him, brushing the hair out of his eyes with a worried look on her face. His grip on Eddie’s hand starts to relax when he looks up at her, but Eddie doesn’t let him go.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” he says, leaning into her touch.

“He’s okay, honey,” she says, and he lets out an uneven breath.

“Are you sure, what if it messes up his treatment and–”

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, shifting in his chair until their shoulders touch.

Richie looks down at his lap. His free hand is still angry and red, tender every time he moves it on his leg. Out of the corner of his eye he sees his mother reaching for him, tugging on his wrist until he’s up. She’s in his arms more than he’s in hers, but still he doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand.

“It’s just a small fracture, Richie,” she says. “It was bound to happen. The cancer makes his bones weak. Your father’s too stubborn to ask for help, you know that. Come on, the nurse is gonna wrap up your hand.”

The three of them walk down the hall to the elevator.

“I broke a bowl,” he says when the door slides open with a ding.

His mother laughs. Eddie smiles at him, even though his eyes still look worried. Richie tries to smile, too.

“In my defense, it was kind of an ugly bowl, Mom.”

She smacks his arm and Richie laughs. The elevator starts to move. It’s hard to tell if he feels weightless or heavier than before.

~

A very small nurse spreads some ointment on his hand and wraps it in gauze while his parents chat with Eddie by Went’s bedside. They shake hands and Eddie says something about being stuck in a cast all summer when he was a kid, _the sweat makes the itching worse, trust me,_ and Richie ignores the way the nurse smiles knowingly when a blush spreads over his cheeks.

_So much for introductions._

It’s practically dinnertime when they finally leave the hospital. The sun is peeking out from behind the clouds. It’s a beautiful summer evening. He tries to relax and embrace it, even a little.

He hugs his parents goodbye, letting his father hold him as tight as he wants, a whispered _don’t worry about it, Rich, your old man’s just a klutz_ in his ear. Richie laughs and squeezes back. _I guess I know where I get it from,_ he mumbles against his father’s shoulder.

Eddie leads them towards his car a few rows up. Richie collapses into the passenger seat and buckles himself in. He knocks his head back against the headrest until Eddie growls his name in warning.

“Can we just stop somewhere for food,” Richie says, looking out the windshield and avoiding the way he knows Eddie’s looking at him. “Please. I’m just really fucking hungry right now.”

They sit in silence until Eddie sighs softly and finally starts the car. He pulls through a drive-thru and Richie doesn’t even look at the menu, just nods absently when he’s asked if he wants the number six like last time. Richie takes the bag of food when it’s handed to him, eating half the fries by the time they arrive at Eddie’s house.

Ripley is clearly mid-nap when they walk in the front door. She stands and leans down into a stretch, a soft happy whine accompanying her yawn. She follows them into the living room and nudges at Richie’s thigh until he pets her.

“Hey, baby girl,” he says, without his usual excitement. He can tell she notices. 

They watch some ridiculous romantic comedy neither of them have seen while they eat, until slowly Richie starts to relax and forget the day. Ripley happily curls up against him when Richie invites her up, cracking a smile when her tail thumps loudly against the arm of the couch while she noses at his neck, leaving a gross wet path behind.

Eddie is leaning back against the other end of the couch, his feet tucked underneath Richie’s leg. Near the end of the movie, Ripley abandons him, her claws tapping at the floor with every step as she wanders into the kitchen. They can hear her lapping at her water bowl loudly, no doubt splashing it all over the floor, and it makes Richie laugh. He lets Eddie tug at his arm until he’s settled between his legs, lying with his head on Eddie’s chest.

In the movie, the guy gets the girl. The New York skyline lights up the darkening sky as the sun sets and their happy ending begins. Richie tries to let himself believe in uncomplicated endings. 

Eddie nudges him up after the credits roll and the screen goes black. Richie takes their trash into the kitchen while he turns off the lights, and then he lets Eddie take him to bed. He lets him take off his clothes piece by piece, his hands gentle and unhurried, not asking for anything but giving everything. He kisses him so tenderly that Richie feels raw, his soul bared open.

Richie clings to him, desperately, until they’re hopelessly tangled together under the sheets, his head tucked underneath Eddie’s chin. He’s struggling to catch his breath again, the stress of the day slamming into him all at once. Eddie holds him until he falls into a restless, fitful sleep.

~

Eddie’s alarm goes off when the morning light is still grey, shaking them both from sleep. Richie lets him roll out of his arms just long enough to turn off the offending sound before pulling him back in. His hands wander over Eddie’s bare chest, his skin warm from sleep. He hooks his chin over his shoulder, rubbing his stubble against Eddie’s neck until he starts to squirm and laugh softly into his pillow.

“Stop that,” Eddie says, pushing weakly at his face.

He stops when Richie licks his palm, his laughs turning into a disgusted _that’s so gross why would you–_ but then his breath catches in his throat when Richie kisses his shoulder and starts to suck gently at his skin. Richie feels fingers slip into his hair, Eddie’s movements restless and a little desperate as he starts to stir against him.

“I really can’t be late today,” Eddie whispers, even as he grinds back against him.

“I can be quick,” Richie says against his throat, fingers digging into Eddie’s hip before reaching down to stroke him through his briefs. Eddie groans and leans over to grab the lube from the nightstand, popping it open and squeezing some onto Richie’s hand.

Richie keeps his promise; he jerks him off fast and hard, until he’s thrusting desperately into Richie’s fist and his entire chest is flushed red. He looks beautiful like that, with his eyes clenched shut and lips parted as he gasps softly. Richie tells him so, says _you‘re beautiful like this_ , _you feel so good, Eddie, can you come for me, baby?_

He stops himself before he says something else.

Eddie comes quickly after that, collapsing back against his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Richie’s about to lean forward to kiss his cheek and say _sorry, you can go shower now,_ with a teasing smile when suddenly Eddie’s sitting up and pushing him onto his back. He kisses him, sloppy and wet and insistent, until Richie’s boneless under him and so incredibly turned on he thinks he could probably come untouched.

But then Eddie slides down the bed until he’s got Richie’s cock in his mouth, holding his thighs down with his hands as he sucks him off. Richie clenches his fists in the sheets and tries to last, but he can’t, not when Eddie looks so fucking _content_ with his dick in his mouth, his hair a sweaty mess against his forehead. He comes down Eddie’s throat, trying not to push too roughly, but Eddie just holds on and takes him deeper, moaning around him.

His legs still feel like jelly when Eddie pulls him to his feet a few minutes later, and he grumbles the whole way until they’re kissing under the hot spray of the shower. Eddie has to push him away so he can wash his hair, laughing when Richie tries to kiss him again and just ends up with a mouth full of shampoo suds. Eddie takes pity on him and kisses him again once he’s rinsed off, holding Richie’s cheek.

After he’s dried off, he pulls the soaked gauze off his hand, tossing it in the trash. Eddie says something about letting it breathe for a while, says he’ll leave out some ointment he’s got in the cabinet for him. Richie nods and finds his underwear on the floor, pulling them on before diving back under the covers. He squints at the open door to the bathroom, smiling as blurry Eddie goes through his morning routine.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep again, but suddenly Eddie’s sitting next to him fully dressed, the mattress dipping gently beneath his weight.

“Are you gonna stay here all day?” Eddie asks, picking up Richie’s injured hand to look at it. “I don’t mind.”

“Can I use your computer?” Richie mumbles.

“Sure.” Eddie kisses his cheek. “As long as you don’t mess up my YouTube history again.”

“It’s all boring car videos,” he laughs and pulls the sheets up to his chin.

“Just for that I should take Ripley with me today.”

“You wouldn’t!”

Ripley must hear her name apparently, because the next thing he knows there’s a cold nose on his face, her whiskers tickling his skin.

~

Richie wakes up an hour or two later. Ripley’s stretched out across the foot of the bed, blinking at him curiously.

“Looks like it’s just you and me today,” he says. Ripley’s tail thumps on the mattress.

He grabs Eddie’s laptop off the desk and spends the day in the backyard with the dog. He tosses the ball and yells at her to leave the squirrels alone. He gives her a couple slices of pepperoni from his pizza and looks her in the eye.

“This is our little secret, pup,” he says. “Your dad can never find out.”

He sends Steve yet another “final” draft for next weekend’s show. He calls Stan and tells him what happened, picking at the edge of the fresh gauze on his hand until Ripley nudges her nose under his wrist. He manages not to cry this time. Stan distracts him by talking about how he’s planning on proposing to Patty in the Smoky Mountains in a few months. 

“Are you two still gonna come up for the Portland show?”

“We’re going to look for airline tickets this weekend,” Stan says.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Richie says. Ripley leans heavily against him.

“I can’t wait to meet Eddie.”

“He needs the Stanley Uris stamp of approval?”

“I think it’s safe to say I already like him from what you’ve told me,” Stan says, and Richie can practically hear his shrug. “But I’m a little protective, I’ll admit.”

“Aw, Stanley. There’s that soft heart I know and love.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“You’re the best!”

“Bye, Richie.”

Eddie works late that night and Richie can’t blame him, considering yesterday. He feeds Ripley and they doze on the couch until Eddie comes home. He barely pulls off his jacket and shoes before nudging the dog out of the way so he can lie down with his head on Richie’s chest.

“What time are we supposed to be at your sister’s tomorrow?” Eddie mumbles into his shirt, practically falling asleep already.

“I don’t think there’s really a set time.” He runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “We’re just helping move stuff around and get a couple tables set up.”

“I’m not getting out of bed until ten.”

Oh my _God,_ Eddie’s _pouting_. Richie laughs deeply, shaking both of them, and only laughs harder when Eddie smacks at his arm when he starts to slide off him.

“Oh, like _I’m_ the early riser in this relationship,” Richie finally says, maneuvering him until Eddie’s comfortable between his legs.

He ignores the way _relationship_ makes his heart pound. _Are we in a–_

He kisses Eddie’s forehead instead of following that thought.

“I’m just warning you that if you try to wake me up before then, I’m gonna kick you out of bed,” Eddie says, but Richie can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, technically you said you’re not getting _out of bed_ until ten.” Richie traces a pattern on his back with his finger; Eddie shivers gently. “I feel like that leaves it open for interpretation.”

Eddie lifts his head and squints down at him, clearly trying to frown but it quickly turns into a smirk. He doesn’t say anything, just kisses him.

~

They get to Sarah’s house around one. The kids are off somewhere with her husband, Matt, which makes Eddie relax a little. He doesn’t say so, but Richie can tell.

“I’m not very good with kids, Richie,” Eddie had said on the drive over, his leg bouncing nervously.

“They’re like eight and five. You’ll be fine, I promise. They might not even want to talk to you, they’re pretty shy sometimes.”

“Oh, great,” Eddie had mumbled.

They help set up the plastic tables they rented from the parks department, taping down the cheesy Fourth of July-themed tablecloths and unfolding plastic chairs. They finish by putting up the huge portable awning. It’s not supposed to be windy tonight, but Eddie checks the weather on his phone either way. 

Sarah winks at him and mouths what looks like _he’s so cute_ and Richie mouths _shut up_ right back.

“How many people are coming, anyway?” Richie asks, trying to keep the obvious anxiety out of his voice. It’s his sister’s house, he knows people won’t be weird about it if they recognize him, but… He avoids Eddie’s eyes on him.

“Probably twenty or so,” Sarah shrugs. “It won’t be too bad, I promise. It’s mostly neighbors and some of the kids’ friends from school.”

“Hey, you should invite Mike!” Richie nudges Eddie’s feet with his.

“Oh.” Eddie sits up a little in his chair, glancing at Sarah. “Yeah, maybe? If that’s okay?”

“Who’s Mike?”

“He’s my business partner, we bought the garage together.” Eddie’s already taking out his phone. “He mostly handles the paperwork side of things, he also works at the library. You’ve probably met him before.”

“Yeah,” Richie tips his chair back on it’s back legs. He can see the _you’re gonna fall over again_ in Eddie’s eyes. “He’s watching the dog while we’re gone next weekend.”

Richie blushes when he realizes what he just said and sees the look Sarah’s giving him. Luckily Eddie’s still looking down at his phone.

“Are you bringing– Ripley, right? She can come tomorrow, if you want!”

“Really?” Eddie sits forward in his chair. He looks so excited, Richie can’t help but snort. He laughs harder when Eddie slaps his knee.

“She’s really good with people and, uh. And kids.” Eddie adds, shifting uncomfortably. Richie reaches out and squeezes his hand.

When they’re lying in bed that night, Eddie snug against him as he scrolls through websites and reads off ideas for Boston next weekend, Richie almost asks him. He thinks about tipping Eddie’s chin up with his finger and saying _hey, are we doing this for real? Because I am. I’m so into you, Eddie, you have no idea._

“We should go for a walk on the Esplanade,” Eddie whispers against his shirt, eyes slipping shut. His phone slides off Richie’s chest onto the mattress.

“Yeah, sure.” Richie kisses his forehead. “Whatever you want, babe.”

~

“Ripley, you look so spiffy,” Richie says, straightening out the brand new bandana wrapped around her neck. “Very festive.”

“You spoil her.” Eddie shakes his head and finishes loading the drinks in the trunk.

“It’s got little fireworks on it, Eds. She’s gonna be the life of the party. Trust me.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t bring anything else? What if there’s not enough food?”

“It’s going to be fine, trust me.”

Richie closes the car door and takes a quick look around the grocery store parking lot before pulling Eddie forward to kiss him.

“What was that for?” Eddie asks with a little smile on his face.

“Oh, you know,” Richie shrugs. Ripley ruins his act by rubbing her nose on his cheek. “For good luck. For coming with me to this stupid family thing.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie says. The sincerity in his voice is too much; Richie looks away. “I’m glad you want me to meet them.”

“Yeah, well.” Richie picks at a string hanging off the end of his shorts.

Eddie lets him off the hook. Ripley sticks her head out the window the entire drive over, sniffing curiously at the wind as they drive the unfamiliar route. The driveway is packed, so they park down the street a bit. Ripley sticks close to Eddie’s side the entire walk up, glancing up at him as he holds the leash tightly. Richie’s not sure which of them is more nervous.

They walk through the empty house and make their way into the backyard; it’s absolutely bustling with people. Richie’s pulse speeds up a little as he puts the beer and soda they bought on a table near the coolers. Eddie sticks close to his side, looking around warily until Sarah spots them and waves. He waves back.

His parents are sitting under one of the bigger trees, enjoying the shade and watching the kids play. His father’s cast is stark against his skin; Richie stares at it, swallowing hard, until Eddie pulls his attention away with a soft touch.

“Rich? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods, wrapping his hand around Eddie’s wrist. “Yeah. Let’s just go say hi. Is Mike here already?”

“I don’t think so,” Eddie shakes his head, looking around again. “I think he was aiming for five.”

They walk across the yard towards his parents. Maggie stands up to hug them both – he’s not sure he’s ever seen Eddie look so bashful before, it’s fucking _cute_ – but Wentworth stays seated. Richie tries not to look at the cast. He’s saved by someone– well, two someones, launching themselves at his legs, almost toppling him over.

“Uncle Richie!”

Chloe and Gideon are each wrapped around one of his legs, giggling and clearly hopped up on sugar and adrenaline. They stop laughing and cling to him harder when they notice the dog.

“Hey guys, this is Ripley,” he says, resting a hand on each of their little heads. “Do you wanna say hi to her?”

“From the pictures?” Chloe says quietly, glancing up at him nervously before looking back at Ripley.

“Yup, that’s right.”

“What’s your name?” Chloe looks up at Eddie. Gideon’s too busy hiding his face against Richie’s thigh. He tries not to laugh at him.

“Eddie,” he says, kneeling down next to Ripley. “You can pet her if you want.”

“Is she nice?”

“She’s the nicest,” Eddie nods and gives her a little smile. Richie feels like he’s gonna have a fucking heart attack.

Chloe reaches out a hand and giggles a little when Ripley leans forward to sniff at her. She pets the top of her head and laughs when Ripley licks at her arm, which makes Gideon finally lift his head and reach out, too. Eventually they let go of Richie’s legs and devote all their attention to the dog, who’s equally happy, judging from the wide grin on her face.

They sit in the fold-up chairs next to his parents and chat until the burgers are ready. Mike shows up just in time, a tin of freshly baked cookies in his hand.

“So, you guys looking forward to Boston next week?” Mike asks once they’re all sitting back down with plates in their lap.

“I really am,” Eddie says. Ripley’s passed out on the grass now, her leash looped around his ankle. “I don’t know the last time I really left town for a vacation.”

Maggie looks over at Richie with a grin. He blushes and takes a long drink from his beer. _Nope_.

“How about you, Rich?” Went asks. “Nervous?”

“Hell yes,” he spits out and everyone laughs.

He tries not to glance at Eddie. He’s seen clips of Richie’s stuff online, though he’s been banished from doing it when he’s there. He’s read some of his material for the show, but not all of it. He should tell him. He will.

“I’m a nervous wreck every time, Dad, you know that.” He continues, pushing the baked beans around on his plate. Eddie knocks his knee against Richie’s.

“You’re fine once you get up there,” Went says, waving a fork at him. “You were always nervous when you were a kid, but as soon as you’re on stage, you thrive.”

“Tell that to my Xanax prescription,” he mutters through his smile.

“He’s being modest,” Maggie says.

“Richie? Modest?” Eddie smiles and it makes him want to do something stupid like push his chair over. Or kiss him.

“I’ve only met you a few times, but…” Mike trails off with a laugh. “I have a hard time believing Richie’s a super modest guy.”

“Hey! Just because I’m in showbiz, doesn’t mean I’ve got a big head.”

“Well…” Eddie says under his breath.

Richie gapes at him as the others laugh softly. He reaches over and rubs at Eddie’s hair until it’s knocked loose from its pristine look, laughing with the others when Eddie curses and nearly knocks his plate off his lap as he grabs at Richie’s hand.

“Richie! Stop it!”

Eddie finally gets his hand around Richie’s wrist and pulls it down in front of his face. He pokes at his cheek and laughs when Eddie leans away dramatically. The laughter dies quickly in his throat when Eddie pulls his hand down to his lips and hesitates, looking Richie in the eye for a second before gently kissing his palm. His thumb sweeps across the back of Richie’s hand before he lowers both their hands onto the armrest.

Richie doesn’t pull away.

Mike and his mom are deep in a discussion about events at the library this summer, but Went’s watching Richie with a soft look on his face. Richie’s not sure he’s ever seen his father look like that before. He squeezes Eddie’s hand and goes back to eating. 

~

When the sun starts to go down, the kids pull Richie over to a large blanket spread out on the grass. Ripley chases after them, barking once and making the kids squeal with laughter. They tug at Richie’s arms until he lies down on the blanket, and then they spend five minutes fighting over who gets to sit on his lap. Gideon wins out, looping his arms around Richie’s neck as the day starts to hit him. Ripley somehow manages to find a frisbee; Eddie and Mike take turns launching it towards the treeline, Chloe racing after her until she collapses on the blanket, too.

When the last of the light disappears, Mike stretches out on the blanket next to him, talking softly with Chloe. They’re facing the center of town, even if it’s impossible to tell when they’re surrounded by all the trees. The city puts on a fireworks show every year, and they’ve got the perfect view.

Eddie reappears with cold beer, handing one to Mike before settling on the blanket behind Richie. There’s plenty of space next to him; Richie’s heart beats a funny rhythm. Ripley settles down in the empty space, curling up behind a delighted Chloe. He feels Eddie’s leg stretch out against his side, his other leg folded up behind Richie’s lower back. Gideon’s curled up in his lap now, head pillowed on his thigh, which means there’s nothing in the way when Eddie’s arm snakes around him.

It’s practically pitch black outside, the soft light from the porch hardly reaching past the edge of the patio. Eddie’s warm against his back, breathing steadily. Richie takes the beer that Eddie holds out for him.

“Is this okay?” Eddie whispers against his ear.

Richie thinks his voice would probably crack if he answered, so he just nods, settling back against Eddie’s chest. He exhales deeply, breath stuttering when Eddie tightens his arm around him, fingers scratching lightly at his stomach through his shirt. Richie rubs at Gideon’s small back for something to do, taking a drink from his beer.

The fireworks start with a whistle, crackling as they reach their full potential and burst into color. Ripley jumps a little next to them, but she settles down quickly after Mike pulls her head onto his lap. Chloe’s got her head resting on the dog’s hind end, fingers twirling in her fur as she watches the show.

Gideon sits up quickly, leaning back against Richie as he points up at the sky in wonder. Eddie’s arm is trapped between them, but he doesn’t move. Richie feels him relax, his cheek warm against Richie’s temple.

Richie finishes his beer and tosses the bottle onto the grass, wrapping his arm around his nephew. He turns his face into Eddie’s, just slightly, just enough for him to feel it. Then he feels Eddie’s lips on his skin, a kiss that’s barely there. He turns back to the sky and let’s himself feel nothing but the boom of the fireworks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get a ride over to the Charles River and walk along the Esplanade until the mid-afternoon sun is high above them. Richie’s got a hat on, tucked low on his face, but nobody recognizes him. Not that he notices, at least. He walks along the river with Eddie, wishing the entire time that he could reach out and hold his hand. It’d be so easy.

It’s Thursday morning before they realize it.

Eddie ends up getting called into work due to some misplaced paperwork, and Richie spends the entire hour he’s gone second-guessing the shirts they picked out for his shows on Friday and Saturday. He usually doesn’t really care that much, but Eddie’s going to  _ be there,  _ watching him from the front row. He makes a mental note to make sure Steve didn’t forget to reserve the tickets.

“I’m on my way home,” Eddie calls him when he’s lugging his suitcase downstairs. “It’d be easier if I just picked you up on the way.”

“I want to say bye to Ripley,” Richie says, groaning when he realizes his laptop charger is still upstairs.

“You just saw her last night– what? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired of running up and down these fucking stairs.”

“It’s good for you,” Eddie teases him.

“Whatever, Mister I-Run-10k’s-For-Fun.” Richie shoves the cable into his backpack and goes through his mental checklist for the tenth time. “I think I’m ready. I’ll be there in a few. Can I still park the Fiero in your garage? I’m not really worried but–”

“Yes, yes,” Eddie interrupts him. Richie can hear a door slam in the background. “It’s open and ready for you.”

“I don’t think we have time for dirty talk, babe.”

“Oh my God _ – Richie.  _ I’m hanging up.”

“On my way! I promise!”

Richie shoves his bags into the passenger seat of the Fiero and drives over to Eddie’s house. Ripley’s wandering around the front yard, tail wagging a little hesitant as she watches Richie pull his bags out of the car once he’s parked. When he opens the Subaru’s trunk and starts loading them in, she lies down with a grunt, head resting between her outstretched front legs. Her big brown eyes look up at him  _ like that  _ and he’s  _ this  _ close to calling Steve to cancel the shows.

“Ignore her,” Eddie says when he walks out of the house. “She always gets like this. I told you I should have just picked you up from your house. It would’ve made more sense.”

“You sure we can’t bring her?” He walks over to pet her head.

“Maybe next time,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes.

_ Maybe next time. _ He looks up at Eddie and thinks yeah. Yeah, next time.

They take Ripley inside once all of their bags are in the car. Eddie’s stacked up her supplies inside the hallway, a couple of toys and her leash sitting on top of the food bin. She glances at it before walking over to her dog bed, tail practically trailing on the ground.

“She’s gonna make me cry, dude,” Richie says, watching as she curls up on the plush bed. “She does this every time?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighs, his hands settling on his hips as Richie kneels down next to Ripley to kiss her. She licks at his cheek. “Trust me, she loves hanging out with Mike. He’s picking her up in a couple hours. She’ll be fine.”

“He better send pictures,” Richie grumbles as he stands back up.

Eddie walks over to tell her goodbye, whispering something against her fur that makes her tail thump against the pillow a few times. She noses at his neck and licks him until he laughs. He runs his hand over her back and then stands up, reaching out to hold Richie’s hand.

“You ready to go?” Richie asks, threading their fingers together.

Eddie nods and leans up on his toes to kiss him. “Yeah.”

~

They make it into Boston in under four hours, coasting down the highway, hugging the ocean as they curve down into the city limits. They manage to miss the beginnings of rush hour, though it helps that they're going in the opposite direction than the people fighting to get into the outlying suburbs. They’ve got an Airbnb booked near the university; Steve had tried to book them into a hotel, but that feels too stale. He’s tired of hotels, with their crisp sheets and impersonal touches. He doesn’t want this trip to feel impersonal, not when Eddie’s here with him.

So, they booked a sixth floor apartment for the weekend instead. It’s neat and quiet around the edges, potted plants lining the windowsills and soft light filtering through the windows that overlook the Charles River in the distance. Eddie still takes out the cleaning supplies to do his own final sweep, inspecting every corner and scrubbing surfaces down again until he’s content. Richie lets him do his thing, watching out of the corner of his eye as he sits down at the table and connects to the internet.

There’s a new email from Laura, the manager for the shows this weekend, a map with directions attached and a thoughtful  _ We’re very excited to have you here in Boston! We hope you have a great stay!  _ message. He looks at Eddie through the open bedroom door, unpacking their bags and placing their clothes in the dresser. Yeah. It’s going to be great.

The streets are still lined with little American flags, flyers for various July 4th celebrations still stapled to the lampposts. They walk down the block to a Thai place down the street for dinner, arms brushing as they walk side by side. The tables are small and close together, a real mom-and-pop type restaurant, and it’s easy to see the care that goes into every dish. It’s busy and crowded but the close contact gives Richie an excuse to rest his knees against Eddie’s comfortably while they eat, easily, like they’re just another couple out for dinner on a nice summer night.

He blushes when he catches himself staring at Eddie for too long, his spoon halfway between his mouth and his bowl. He coughs and blames it on the curry, blushing harder when Eddie smirks at him. Okay, so maybe he’s a horrible liar.

Eddie pays and Richie wants to argue with him, tease him until he swats his hand away from the check, but then the guy at the table next to them looks at him for a little too long. Richie loses his nerve and ducks his head down a little, rubbing at his cheek anxiously until Eddie gets his card back. He knocks the table a little when he stands up, apologizing under his breath as he grabs their leftovers.

They walk back down the main street with a foot of space between them, until they’ve turned the corner and the foot traffic slows down. It’s almost completely dark out now, but Richie still pauses at a little park, sitting down on a bench heavily. He takes a breath and nudges at some leaves with his foot.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. Eddie’s thigh is warm against his. The paper bag in his lap crinkles and then settles.

“You know I’m not mad,” Eddie says, touching his arm gently. 

The only other person in the park is a younger woman with a little terrier, playing fetch across the field. They’re not sitting under a light; the nearest lamp is twenty feet down the path. Richie looks up and leans over, kissing Eddie’s cheek softly. It feels like his heart is going to leap out of his throat.

When they finally walk back to their rental, Richie spends the entire ten minutes wishing he could take Eddie’s hand in his. He settles for the feeling of Eddie’s hand brushing against his with every step.

~

Eddie watches some random movie on Netflix in the main room while Richie reads over his notes for tomorrow, pacing the bedroom as he mumbles the jokes under his breath, practicing the timing. He gets to the last few pages and sits down on the bed, his heart pounding as he reads the words.

He thinks about his last conversation with Stan. The first time he’d read them aloud to someone else.

“I’m really proud of you, Rich,” Stan had said, sounding a little choked.

“I feel like– it feels like it’s time,” he’d said, sweating bullets.

“Have you told Eddie yet? He’s going to be there, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah he’s gonna be there. I haven’t… shown him yet.”

“You’re not afraid he’ll tell you to take the bit out, are you? Because I don’t think–”

“No, no.” He had cut him off. “It’s not like that. I’m just nervous. You know?”

“I know.” Stan paused, but it’s always easy to tell when he’s still thinking. “I really am proud of you, Richie. I love you. You can do this.”

_ You can do this. _

He walks into the living room, laptop tucked under his elbow, and sits down next to Eddie. He watches him laugh at something on the TV before glancing over at Richie.

“Hey,” he says, fidgeting with the closed laptop.

Eddie gives him a look. Then he pauses the movie and shifts around so he can look Richie straight-on. “What’s up?”

“I just– um, I was going over my stuff for tomorrow, and I– uh.”  _ Shit. Come on. “ _ I wanted you to read the ending? Before I get up there in front of everyone and say something without your, uh, permission.”

“My permission?” Eddie’s confused now, Richie can tell by the way his hand keeps running anxiously up and down his arm. Comforting himself. Bracing himself. Richie reaches out to stop him.

“No, it’s not– I just. I think I’m ready to… you know what, just read it, okay? I promise it’s nothing bad. I just want you to be okay with it. There’s still time to take it out of the set. It won’t affect anything. Well, it’ll–”

“Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Give me the laptop.”

“Okay.”

He sits there while Eddie reads, watching the way he bites at his lower lip as he scrolls down the pages. Without looking up, Eddie reaches out and pushes at Richie’s face until he laughs.

“You’re staring.”

“I don’t know what else to do!”

“Well! Stop it! Just let me read!” 

Richie drops his head down onto the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t look over even when Eddie laughs softly under his breath and shifts around until his toes are tucked under Richie’s thigh. Richie rubs Eddie’s leg until he hears the laptop shut with a click.

“So?” He asks the ceiling. “Any thoughts?”

He feels the couch shift as Eddie sits up next to him, feels the hand on his shoulder smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. He keeps looking up.

“It’s really good,” Eddie says. “You’re going to be great, Rich.”

Eddie’s palm is warm on his cheek. He finally looks over.

“You think so?”

Eddie’s grinning at him. It makes him blush, even now. He looks down at his lap.

“I’m really proud of you,” Eddie says, leaning forward until his cheek is resting on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

“You’re not mad? That I wrote about you?”

Eddie sets the laptop down on the couch behind him and wraps his arm around Richie’s waist.

“I mean, you could have told me. I’m not mad, though. It’s– uh. It’s flattering?”

Richie chuckles and loops his arm around Eddie’s back. “Are you embarrassed? You’re hot stuff, Eds.”

Eddie pokes at his ribs, right on the edge of where he’s ticklish. The bastard.

“No, I’m not. I’m just happy for you. Really happy.”

_ I love you _ , he thinks suddenly. His lungs grow tight. A chill runs down the center of his chest.  _ I love you. So much.  _ He holds him tight.

“I know we haven’t really…” he says instead. He trails off. “We haven’t really talked about it. But. You are– I mean, we  _ are _ –”

“Richie?” Eddie’s fingers are soft on his neck.

“You’re my boyfriend, right?” He swallows and feels his skin burning as soon as the words are out. He can’t see Eddie’s face like this, but his hand goes still where it’s resting on Richie’s side.

Eddie sighs.  _ I know I’m not in town for very long, _ Richie starts to think, bracing himself.  _ I know we haven’t really talked about how long I’m gonna be– _

“Are you serious?” Eddie asks, and he stops breathing. “We’re sitting in Boston, on vacation together, and you’re asking if we’re dating?”

“Well–” he laughs at himself, though it sounds a little crazed and a bit embarrassed to his own ears. “I know we’re dating, but I wasn’t sure if you were into label–”

Eddie kisses him hard, holding Richie’s face with both of his hands. He kisses him back, holding onto him like he can’t quite believe they’re actually here, finally. They kiss until Eddie pulls away with a gasp, clutching at the collar of Richie’s shirt.

“Yes,” Eddie pants against his mouth, before kissing him lightly. “You are my boyfriend. Idiot.”

“Okay,” Richie says, his heart feeling light. He pulls Eddie into his lap. “Okay. Good. I’m glad.”

Eddie laughs into his mouth as he lunges forward for another kiss.

“You should take your boyfriend to bed now,” Eddie says a few minutes later, his hands restless under Richie’s shirt, pressing against his hot skin.

He does.

~

The next morning, Eddie finally drags him out of bed around ten. They eat at a place with outdoor seating, sitting under a big red umbrella as the warm breeze passes over them. They sit there for an hour, coming up on two when Richie’s phone buzzes with a call. It’s Steve, asking if he’s ready, asking if everything’s still on.

Richie looks across the table at Eddie, relaxed in the shade across from him, sunglasses on and lazily sipping at some lemonade.

“Yeah,” he says, his pulse speeding up in a way that feels euphoric. “Yeah, everything’s still on. I’m gonna do it.”

Eddie grins at him and takes out his own phone. He takes a picture, Richie can tell. He doesn’t think about anyone else. Just them. He hangs up and takes his own picture, nudging at Eddie’s knee until he looks up. Eddie flips off the camera and smiles, dimples highlighted by the sun, and it’s the most beautiful thing Richie’s ever seen.

They get a ride over to the Charles River and walk along the Esplanade until the mid-afternoon sun is high above them. Richie’s got a hat on, tucked low on his face, but nobody recognizes him. Not that he notices, at least. He walks along the river with Eddie, wishing the entire time that he could reach out and hold his hand. It’d be so easy.

Maybe it will be easier tomorrow.

Eddie leads them to a bench that overlooks the river and the skyline on the opposite shore. The sky is bright blue today, welcoming and gentle. There are a few puffy clouds off in the distance, steadily moving up the coast. Richie sits next to Eddie, their thighs touching, and listens to him talk.

His usual pre-show routine consists of him sitting in a room and pacing, barely eating until he’s almost sick with hunger. He recites the jokes until he’s dizzy with them, until Steve or his assistant knocks on the door and sits him down, pushes a pill into his hand, trying to get him to rest even a little bit before the lights go up. He pounds a shot of bourbon before he walks out onto the stage, the lights piercing through him. They never see him, though. They’ve never really seen him.

Today, though, he feels nothing except a vague hint of anticipation. It’s not overwhelming, not with Eddie next to him like this, talking to him like it’s any other day. Eddie shows him the newest pictures of Ripley sent by Mike with a wistful little smile on his face. Richie wants to wrap his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and kiss his forehead. He settles for rubbing his thumb over the soft skin on the inside of Eddie’s wrist. He laughs at an old picture of Ripley as a puppy that Eddie pulls up, admiring the pleased look on Eddie’s face as he thumbs through the gallery.

He takes a breath and moves his hand down Eddie’s arm, until they’re fingers slide together. Eddie squeezes back, looking up at him over the lenses of his sunglasses. He smiles softly at Richie and sets down his phone.

“Maybe we should head back so you can change,” Eddie says, thumb warm against Richie’s.

_ Yeah, you’re probably right,  _ he thinks.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says instead. He wants to kiss him so badly. A group of joggers run past and he loses his nerve, untangling their fingers.

There’s a look of understanding on Eddie’s face. It calms his nerves. He doesn’t roll his eyes or purse his lips in annoyance like others have in the past. He just squeezes Richie’s knee and stands up, looking down at him with an amused look until Richie stands up, too.

It’s like his brain remembers the show as soon as they’re sitting in their Uber, the first twenty minutes of the show running through his mind at a steady pace. He’s lost in thought, and it feels rude, almost, but Eddie just lets him do his thing. He showers when they get back, talking to himself the entire time. Eddie can probably hear him, which usually embarrasses the fuck out of him, but it doesn’t today.

It’s not until he’s pulling on his clothes for tonight that the anxiety hits him. He paces the bedroom until Eddie wanders in, curious about the noise, and sits him down. He kisses him, which is a new type of distraction he could really get used to. His pulse is still racing when Eddie pulls back, kissing him softly once, twice, as he finishes buttoning up Richie’s shirt for him.

“You sure we can’t–” Richie teases half-heartedly; he knows how stilted he sounds.

Eddie pulls at his collar until it’s straightened out. “We’ll have time later.”

Later. After. He swallows hard. There’s a small tremor in his hand. A hesitation. He kisses him again until he feels steady. Eddie lets him.

~

They take Eddie’s car to the venue. The red brick of Agganis Arena shines in the early evening light, the grounds of Boston University manicured to perfection. There’s the hint of a line out front already, even though they’re still an hour or two from the start of the show. They walk in the side entrance and they’re led through a maze of concrete halls until they reach the room they’ve set aside for him.

Richie scrolls through the material for the thousandth time until Eddie reaches out to lower his phone from his face. There’s nobody in the room except them.

“I fucking hate this part,” he admits, throat tight. He needs a fucking drink. “I need a–”

Eddie hugs him, arms wrapped tight around his waist until he gives in and relaxes, tucking his face into the slope of Eddie’s shoulder.

“There’s still time to change your mind,” Eddie whispers against his ear. “I don’t want you to think I’ll blame you if you don’t go through with it.”

Richie closes his eyes and holds him tighter. He thinks about lying in bed with Eddie, Ripley down by their feet on the twisted mess of the comforter. He thinks about the Fourth of July, remembers Eddie holding his hand in front of his entire family. He thinks about the hospital and– he exhales heavily against Eddie’s shoulder.

“No,” he says, turning his face to kiss Eddie’s neck. “I’m doing it.”

“I’m proud of you.” Eddie rubs his back. “Everyone is.”

“You better not make me cry right before I’m supposed to go tell jokes for an hour.”

“Richie, you cried at a commercial last week.”

“So did Mike!”

“Mike is a notorious sap.”

There’s a hesitant knock at the door. Richie pulls back and pushes his glasses up his nose. Eddie steps away. Laura walks in with a glass full of something auburn, but he waves it away.

“Are you sure? Your manager said–”

“It’s okay,” he says, shaking his head. He can see Eddie watching him out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t need it tonight.”

“Well, we’re ready for you whenever you are,” Laura says, setting the glass down on a table.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he says. She gives him a nod and steps back outside.

He takes out his phone and messages Steve.  _ It’s time to get this show on the road. You better be ready for some PR wrangling, buddy. _ He turns off the ringer and hands the phone to Eddie.

“Hold onto this for me? You should probably go find your seat.”

Eddie smooths out Richie’s jacket, tugs at his cuffs until they’re peeking out under the sleeves. He kisses him one last time.

“I’ll see you as soon as you’re done,” Eddie says against his lips.

Then he’s gone, and Richie’s following Laura down the harshly lit hallway, until they’re standing in the wings. He can hear the crowd, their hushed whispers as the lights drop down. The sounds of anticipation. His heart beats wildly in his chest. He takes one last breath and walks into the burning spotlight.

~

Everything goes perfectly. The crowd laughs during all the right moments. Realistically, he knows it’s a big arena, but it helps that he can’t see past the first ten rows because of the lights. He’s nearing the end. He can see Eddie in the front row, a few seats off to the right. He takes a breath.

“So, uh. I’ve been seeing someone.”

Someone wolf whistles and the rest of the audience laughs, scattered clapping echoing in his ears.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he laughs, ducking his head. He holds the mic tightly in his sweaty hand. “So, I’ve been uh. I’ve been seeing this guy and–”

A hush falls over the crowd.

“He really revs my engine, if you know what I mean. No, I mean, really. He’s actually my mechanic.”

He gets what sounds like a sympathy laugh. He moves the mic away from his face and coughs lightly. He feels like he’s drowning in sweat. The lights are blinding.

“Now I know what you’re thinking– how’d this guy get a boyfriend? Richie Tozier? Locked down after all these years?”

That gets a few laughs. Eddie’s leaning forward in his seat, chin propped up in his hand. Eddie gives him a little nod.

“Yeah well, if you ever saw his abs, you’d be willing to settle down too. I don’t want to objectify him, but he makes it really hard.”

He leans forward with a grin, and they laugh. They  _ laugh _ . He didn’t exactly expect to get booed off stage, but… actually, he’s not really sure what he expected.

“Yes, he’s absolutely ripped. It’s horrible. Look at me! I’m fifty percent pizza. The first time I saw him in one of those tight wife beater shirts, I wanted to beat my– sorry, this show’s eighteen and up, right? Yeah, I got so hard I saw stars. Or maybe they were dick-shaped stars. I’m not really sure. It’s a bit fuzzy now.”

Eddie’s covering his face with his entire hand now. 

By the end, the crowd’s laughing just as loudly as they were at the beginning of the show. When he’s done, the applause keeps going and going and going, and the only thing he can do is stand there and listen. He sees the people in the third and fourth rows stand, and then everyone else follows suit. He sees Eddie standing, clapping hard with a grin on his face. He looks proud.

Richie feels proud.

He walks off stage and waits until Eddie bursts through the door. Eddie pulls him into a crushing hug and Richie chokes back a sob.

“Holy fuck, I did it,” he gasps. “I really fucking did it.”

“You sure did, baby,” Eddie says against his throat, burying his fingers in the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. Richie holds him so close he thinks he’s about to be torn apart from the inside out.

“I think I could use that drink now,” he mumbles into Eddie’s hair. 

~

They drive back to the rental, though Richie struggles to remember a single second of it, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Eddie still has his phone, and he hasn’t asked for it. He doesn’t want anything to ruin this.

He drags Eddie into the shower with him, washing off the sweat and the lingering fear, kissing him sloppily under the water. Eddie jacks him off, pace unrelenting, drawing broken moans from deep inside his chest. When Richie tries to pull him towards the bed once they’re out of the shower and dry, Eddie puts a hand to his chest and shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh,” Eddie says, laughing against his cheek. “That can wait. We’re going out first.”

“Eddie, c’mon–” he says, trailing a hand down Eddie’s naked stomach. He feels his skin jump beneath his touch. 

“Richie!” Eddie grabs his hand and pulls him towards the dresser. “We’re getting dressed and going out. Also, I’m absolutely starving, and I know you must be too.”

Richie’s stomach grumbles right on cue. Traitor.

Twenty minutes later they’re down the street at a pub ordering food and drinks. They sit at a corner table, Richie nervously eyeing the door until the fresh, hot food distracts him. He eats Eddie’s fries until his hands are slapped away and a stray fry lands right in his beer. He drains the rest anyway, nearly choking when he laughs at the disgusted look on Eddie’s face.

Eddie finally gives him his phone back. Richie nearly cries at the messages from Stan, and then cries for real when he sees the one from his mom. Somebody at the next table over notices them knock their glasses together in a toast and asks if they’re celebrating something, and buys them all a round of shots. Eddie holds his hand under the table all night. 

~

Richie wakes up with a headache, made worse by the sun shining through the open curtains. He gets up with a huff to drag them closed, casting the bed in shadows. The sheets are pooled around Eddie’s waist, his face tucked into his elbow on the pillow. Richie slides back into bed, wrapping himself around Eddie’s sun-warmed back. He kisses the small freckles dotting his muscular shoulders; kisses his way down his spine, down to the small of his back. He scoots down the bed and presses his cheek to the soft skin there, watching Eddie’s back rise and fall.

Eddie starts to stir a few minutes later, burrowing deeper into the pillow as his hands wander, seeking him out. He stretches under Richie’s weight, his knee finding Richie’s ribs and lingering there against him.

“What time is it,” Eddie mumbles, not lifting his head an inch.

“No idea,” Richie says, smoothing his hand over Eddie’s shoulders.

“How do you feel?” Eddie asks. He’s peering over his shoulder now, blinking sleepily. Richie smiles against his back.

“Kinda have a headache. I’m thinking we should’ve skipped those last shots.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and twists around until he’s lying on his back. “That’s not what I meant. Jerk.”

Richie looks away. He plays with Eddie’s fingers, memorizing the shape of his knuckles, the scars that have created a map on his skin.

“I feel okay, I think.”

Eddie’s palm is warm on his cheek. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he nods and closes his eyes, taking in the feeling of Eddie breathing under him. “I mean, I get to go up there and do it all over again tonight. I can’t think about it too much until then.”

_ I’ll freak out if I do, _ he doesn’t say. Eddie runs his fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He leans into the touch.

“I might need you to run interference on my phone,” he adds, practically whispering it. “If you don’t mind.”

“If you want me to, I can. Right now?”

Richie shrugs. Eddie stretches out towards the nightstand, grabbing Richie’s phone. He moves up the bed until his head’s pillowed on Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Stan says to drink water,” Eddie says, giggling. “It looks like you sent him some, uh, enthusiastic messages last night. Lots of emojis.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Couple more from your mom and Sarah. Oh, and Mike. Aw, it’s Ripley. Look.”

Eddie shows him the screen. It’s Mike and Ripley, sitting on the wooden bench on Mike’s porch. She’s licking his face, of course, but she’s got a new bandana tied around her neck. It’s rainbow-themed. Richie blushes and hides his face against Eddie’s neck.

“Please tell him I love it,” he says, his words sounding a little wet.

“I miss our dog,” Eddie mutters under his breath.  _ Our  _ dog. Richie hugs him tighter, tangling their legs together.

“Yeah, me too.”

“There’s some messages from numbers you don’t have saved. Um, lots from Steve. Do you want me to read these ones?”

Richie nods. He feels the anxiety start to trickle down his chest, spreading through his lungs. The tips of his fingers feel a little numb. He braces himself. Eddie rubs his back and starts to read.

“He says congrats. Lots of interview requests already. A couple of TV spots they want you for, if you’re interested. He says there’s no rush.”

“Okay,” he says. He feels small. He wishes he hadn’t closed the curtains. He feels a little cold, even though Eddie’s warm against him.

“I think you have so many Twitter and Instagram notifications your phone’s about to blow up. I don’t think you should look at those yet.”

“I don’t want to.”

Eddie kisses his forehead.

“You want to go out today?” 

_ No. _ He wants to hide inside until he’s due back at the arena. He doesn’t want to be seen. He feels fractured inside. Maybe he wasn’t ready–

“Yeah,” he says instead. “Yeah, we should.”

“Quincy Market’s fun. We can walk along the harbor.”

“Okay,” he says.

He takes the phone from Eddie and drops it onto the bed. He threads their fingers together and lifts himself up so he can lean down for a kiss. The chill leaves his body.

~

They make it to Quincy Market by noon, wandering through the marketplaces and picking out cheesy postcards. Richie buys too much candy and whines when Eddie takes the bag from him, chastising him because it’ll  _ ruin his appetite _ . Richie rolls his eyes.

Eddie gets a lobster roll while he settles for a giant cup of clam chowder. They eat outside, sitting on a shaded bench. Richie makes up voices for the various kinds of people they see across the courtyard, narrating their lives until Eddie pokes at his side to get him to stop.

Eddie throws out his trash on the way to the bathroom. Richie takes a breath and glances at his notifications.  _ Congrats!  _ He reads over and over; his stomach ties itself into knots. He puts the phone back in his pocket. He watches families walk past him, little kids with faces stained red and blue from the half-melted slushies in their hands.

He watches a little boy walk past, his face painted like a tiger, holding on tightly to his father’s hand. Richie waves at him and the boy waves back, a grin on his little face. He feels Eddie sit back down, feels the nudge at his leg until he looks back over. Eddie’s got two ice cream cones in his hands, and he’s holding one out for him.

“Thanks,” he says, smiling as he watches Eddie try to mop up the melted ice cream running down the back of his hand. 

They take their ice cream down to the waterfront park across the street and find another bench to sit on. The sea breezes are warm and gentle, the squawking of seabirds above mixing with the sounds of the city. It’s a fairly crowded day, which isn’t surprising considering it’s a Saturday in the middle of summer. He looks at Eddie, who’s staring out at the boats in the harbor, a content look on his face.

Richie turns Eddie’s chin with a gentle touch, hesitating only for a second before he kisses him. He tastes like chocolate, the sweet sugar of the ice cream still on his lips. He kisses him and feels Eddie smile against his lips before he leans further into Richie’s space. He buries his hand in Eddie’s hair to distract himself from the slight tremble he feels. He kisses him until a boat sounds its horn just off-shore and an excited group of people walk past, shouting in excitement. He lingers there, his forehead resting against Eddie’s as he catches his breath.

Then somebody yells a name that sounds almost like his and he squeezes his eyes shut on instinct, starting to pull away. Eddie stops him with a reassuring squeeze of his hand.

Richie relaxes. He takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and kisses him again. Nothing scares him away this time.

~

Whoever said “it’s easier the second time!” is a liar.

But he does it, he gets up on stage and lays out his heart for everyone to see, for the second night in a row. Eddie’s in the front row again, watching him with a smile and a proud look on his face. Richie slips in a story about Ripley because he can’t help it. He says  _ our dog  _ out-loud and the crowd laughs and then he kisses Eddie backstage because he can.

Eddie drives them back to the rental and Richie can’t stop touching him, his hand wandering higher up his thigh as Eddie tries to focus on the road.

“Quit!” Eddie says, though there’s no bite behind his words. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is? Richie, you’re obnoxious, did you know that–”

Richie slips his hand up under the edge of his shirt, smoothing his palm over his ribs and enjoying the way Eddie gasps softly, biting at his lip. He strips him both out of his clothes as soon as they’re inside, the door barely clicking shut behind them as Eddie drags him into a kiss. They’re loud and uncoordinated, bumping into the doorjamb as they find their way to the bedroom. A table rattles against the wall as they brush past and Eddie curses, mumbling  _ be careful _ against his lips even as he pulls him roughly onto the bed.

Eddie stretches out beneath him, arching off the bed as he grinds against him, moaning into Richie’s mouth. He can’t get close enough, not nearly, not even when he sinks into him, Eddie’s legs wrapped tight around his waist as he holds him inside, gasping against him as he adjusts and paws at Richie’s burning skin.

They move together like they always have, but it feels different this time, it feels like nothing Richie’s ever experienced before. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Eddie’s hushing him gently, wiping at his cheeks and kissing him deeply.

“Rich– are you okay, I–” Eddie breaks apart, moaning as he thrusts deeper, their bodies sweat-slick and sliding against each other desperately.

He doesn’t know how to answer in a way that doesn’t end up with him screaming  _ I’m fine, I promise, I just love you so fucking much, Eddie– _

So he just buries his face against Eddie’s neck instead, his beard burning roughly against his skin. Eddie’s skin is going to be angry and raw in the morning, but he can’t stop, not when it feels like this, not when Eddie’s drawing him closer and bucking his hips in time with Richie’s thrusts.

Eddie comes first, untouched, rubbing himself desperately against Richie’s stomach. He throws his head back, neck bare and red, veins popping, and Richie sucks at his skin until Eddie’s stopped trembling in his arms. He feels Eddie’s hands slide up and down his sweaty back, holding on to his hips, encouraging him. He lifts himself up and braces himself on Eddie’s shoulders until he’s coming deep inside him, until Eddie’s legs unwrap from his waist and he pulls out as gently as he can.

He collapses on the bed next to him, kissing Eddie’s shoulder even as he struggles to catch his breath.

_ I love you, I love you, love y– _

“Hey,” Eddie says, turning towards him.

“Hi.”

Eddie brushes the hair out of Richie’s face.

“Thank you for bringing me on this trip.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, hoping it’s enough.

~

They spend Sunday morning lying around, taking advantage of the extra day off. They could have gone home today, but Richie’s glad they decided to stay until Monday.

They make their way to the Common during the afternoon, watching kids play at the Frog Pond while they lounge on a grassy slope. They commandeered a blanket from the apartment, spreading it out in a shady spot. Richie falls asleep stretched out next to Eddie and his book. He wakes up an hour later to Eddie gently rubbing his back. He rolls over onto his back with a sleepy smile.

“How’s the book?” He asks, scratching absently at his stomach.

“Good. You’d hate it.”

“Well yeah, it doesn’t have any pictures.”

“It’s a little hard to read out here.”

“Too many screaming kids?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns to the next page.

“No,” he mumbles. Richie pokes at his side until he answers the question. “Distracted by the view.”

Richie blushes and then scoots closer to him. He props his head up on his hand, leaning on an elbow. He trails a finger down Eddie’s forearm.

“Didn’t get enough of me last night? And this morning?”

Eddie throws his bookmark at him.

“I’m gonna go find a snack, you want something?”

Eddie just shrugs. Richie wanders off, finding a food cart. A group of 20-somethings walk up to him when he’s finally in line for a pretzel, and he takes a picture with each of them. They thank him before walking off, telling him good luck with everything. He’s not sure he’s ever been thanked like that before. He buys a couple of pretzels and walks back to Eddie, feeling a little lighter.

He sits behind Eddie this time, just like the Fourth of July. He’s warm and soft from the sun. They eat the pretzels and watch a dog enthusiastically chase after a frisbee. Richie wraps his arm around Eddie’s chest and pulls him close. It feels nice, not giving a shit who sees and what they think. It’s still a work in progress, but he’s getting there.

“We should bring Ripley next time,” Eddie says.

“We should go up the coast,” he says. “Hang out in a cool old lighthouse.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to go in them.”

“I’d break into a lighthouse for you, babe.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, finishing his pretzel and tossing his napkin on the blanket. “I think.”

“You’re welcome.” Richie kisses the back of his head. A couple walks past and smiles at them. Eddie says a small little  _ hi _ .

“What do you want to do tonight?” Eddie rests his hand on top of Richie’s and leans his head back on his shoulder, looking over at him. “It’s your weekend.”

“Think it’s a little too late to catch a game at Fenway?”

Eddie laughs. It’s a beautiful sound.

“I don’t think they’re even in town this weekend.”

“Damn. There goes the whole weekend. What a waste.” 

“C’mon, let’s go for a walk. I don’t think the gazebo’s far.”

“Mr. Kaspbrak, are you secretly a romantic?”

“I’m gonna leave you here if you don’t get your ass up, Tozier.”

“Bossy, bossy…”

He helps Eddie to his feet and gathers up their blanket. Eddie shoves it into his backpack and pulls Richie forward by the hand, leading him deeper into the park. Richie’s heart pounds loudly in his ears, but he doesn’t pull away.

They walk up the brick path to the bandstand, the great white columns turning golden as the afternoon light shifts. People walk past, little kids swinging their linked arms and dogs of all sizes sniffing curiously at their ankles. Cars honk in the distance, the sound of city traffic blending in with the swaying branches of the trees. The summer heat sinks into his skin, an uncomfortable burn on the back of his neck.

Eddie leads him up the gazebo’s steps; the shade and the coolness of the surrounding brick are a welcome change. Eddie leans against the railing and looks out at the bustling park, the path of his gaze hidden by his sunglasses. Richie takes out his phone and takes a picture, laughing when Eddie notices what he’s doing and shakes his head.

He walks up to him and leans with both hands on the railing, Eddie between his forearms, holding him in place. He reaches up to take Eddie’s sunglasses off, laughing softly when he squints into the brightness of the day.

“Yes?” Eddie says, the question lingering in the air. He’s smirking up at Richie, his dimples on full display. Richie leans forward and kisses the gentle fold in his cheek.

“It’s my turn to enjoy the view,” he says, without a lick of fear in his heart.

He kisses him until their skin gradually cools in the shade of the gazebo. The park continues to move around them, the heat of the day lifting as the evening breezes begin to move through. They’re stuck there, in sight of everyone and everything. For the first time, he doesn’t mind.

Eddie pulls away with a smile, smoothing his fingers over Richie’s cheek. Something moves in Richie’s chest, something locks into place– he exhales like it’s a whisper, until his lungs scream at him for air.  _ I– _

Eddie kisses him again before he can remember how to form words with his lips. He kisses back desperately,  _ just say it just say it just say it _ repeating over and over in his head. Then Eddie leans back and looks him right in the eye, unwavering.

“Hey,” Eddie says, quietly, roughly, like the words are lodged in his throat, too. And then they’re not.

“I love you, Richie.”

Richie feels his mouth drop open, the wind cool on his face. He sees Eddie watching him carefully, eyes moving up and down his face as the silence stretches out. Richie swallows hard.  _ He– _

He takes Eddie’s face in his hands and kisses him roughly, missing his mark half the time, all the air that’s left in his lungs burning. He feels thin and raw; it feels freeing.

“I love you so much,” he says against Eddie’s lips, thumb running over his cheek restlessly, like he’ll fall apart if he stops touching him. “Eddie, I love you so much.”

“Good,” Eddie laughs, a wet sound escaping his throat as he braces his forehead against Richie’s.

“I love you,” Richie says again. He doesn’t know how to stop. He doesn’t know how he ever stopped himself before now.

The last thing they do before the sun finally sets is take another picture. He kisses Eddie and hears the shutter sound. It’s perfect. When they’re riding the train back to their rental, he opens up his official Instagram and selects the photo.

_ He makes settling down worth it _ , he writes. He presses the little “post” button.

He puts his phone away. He doesn’t care about the aftermath, not when his arm is wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders, looking back at him with love in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Ripley will return. I can't stay away from this 'verse.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter two should be up within a week or so :)  
> I'm on twitter @berrkmanblock!


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